Adolescence
by Lucrecia LeVrai
Summary: A story that will take you to Bevelle, about ten years into Seymour's past. Warning: will eventually contain some shounenai.


"Adolescence"

by Lucrecia LeVrai

* * *

A few important / explanatory notes:

-- This is all about Seymour… terribly monotonous, I assure you: Seymour this, Seymour that, blah, blah, blah… It's not my fault I like him so much. ;)) …Anyway, he's only fifteen in this piece - arrogant, yes, but definitely not insane. It's not that I have a problem with psychotic villains, mind you… but this story's simply about Seymour's past, not about his later -ekhem- exploits.

-- The fic you're going to read is set in Bevelle; most events take place in an elitist, boarding school for boys only. The reason for Seymour being there? Well, I think it's rather obvious that Jyscal, being so open-minded and all, would like to ensure that his only child received the best education possible… and it's not so hard to imagine that in Spira 'best education' meant 'Bevelle'.

-- Because of Jyscal's position, Seymour is, technically, a prince - thus the title the headmaster uses.

-- I'm a foreigner and my English's far from perfect. I'm sorry, but, for the sake of your own enjoyment, you'll have to try and ignore all mistakes you're going to find in this fic…

-- _Final Fantasy X_ is definitely not something _I_ have created. Got it?

-- All original characters in this story are mine… as if anybody gave a damn about these!

-- Last but not least: enjoy the story!

* * *

Chapter One;

"Laures"

* * *

Evan Rysse sighed and began to carefully arrange a large pile of papers that lay in front of him, unable to stand the mess any longer. Well, people often said he was pedantic, but he would always reply that this was not the case… he simply liked to keep his office neat and tidy. Documents scattered all over his desk irritated him.

However, at the moment, the mess was a relatively minor problem, at least compared to the stubborn attitude of one of Evan's two guests. "Please," the headmaster repeated, gesturing at an empty chair, "you should take a seat, as well. Most papers are ready by now, but certain additional formalities may take up to two hours…"

"Thank you," a masculine voice, marked by a thick, foreign accent, replied, "but I'd rather remain standing."

Evan looked up, meeting the speaker's calm, unflinching gaze. The man's obstinacy was really annoying, but the headmaster decided to stay silent this time. After all, he knew nothing of the Guado customs… and the person standing currently on the other side of his mahogany desk happened to be a middle-aged Guado nobleman, one of Maester Jyscal's ambassadors in Bevelle. Altogether, a very important figure, Evan had been told.

Generally speaking, Evan Rysse did not mind the ambassador's strange manners at all, but one thing was certain - he would have gladly seen the man seated. Already taller than any human, the Guado was practically towering over the sitting headmaster. Well, slender as he was, he didn't appear very intimidating, but there was certainly some level of menace in his dark eyes… maybe because he acted so protectively towards his much younger companion, a blue-haired boy who sat about three feet away… a fifteen-year-old lad who had been earlier introduced as Seymour van Jyscal, the Maester's only son.

"As you wish…" Evan mumbled, turning his head in the boy's direction. "Your highness, you may leave now, if you wish. I'm afraid that this would be a rather boring experience for you…"

The youth nodded slowly. He hadn't spoken a single word so far, and Evan was beginning to wonder whether he could talk at all. He certainly understood what was going on; he had even taken the time to actually _read_ the documents he had had to sign… which Evan, personally, found very surprising - sadly enough, not so many people did that sort of thing. He didn't seem bored or detached, either. Ever since he had entered the room, he kept his gaze fixed on the headmaster face, staring so intently that it was slowly driving Evan insane; those pale, violet eyes were rather… disturbing. Still, Rysse had to admit that there _was_ something human about the boy. The rumors about Jyscal's wife must have been true, then…

Meanwhile, much to Evan's relief, the ambassador had finally decided that, all things considered, siting down was definitely a better option. "…Then, please, try to be as brief as possible--"

"_Atsuko-san_," the boy spoke suddenly, instantly drawing the men's attention to his pale face.

The Guado's eyebrows rose in surprise. "_Shimoa-sama_?" he asked, a bit hesitant.

"_Atsuko-san, you have heard what Rysse-dono has just said._ _If my presence is no longer required, I would rather leave and do something else_," the boy said, not even looking at the nobleman.

"_Such as_?" the Guado frowned.

"_Take a closer look at the city, for example_."

Evan Rysse leaned back in his chair, unable to understand what his two guests were saying, yet fully aware of a subtle tension building between them. The youth spoke in a soft, gentle voice, but he seemed far from timid… whereas the ambassador obviously didn't even try to mask his displeasure.

"_Shimoa-sama, Jyscal-roushi has left you under my care. And, since, as can you see, I cannot accompany you right now_--"

"_I don't want you to accompany me_," the youth interrupted, and Evan was slightly surprised to finally hear a trace of emotion - irritation, to be precise - in his previously dispassionate voice.

"_I'm afraid that what you are asking for would be very much against your father's wishes_--"

"_I'm afraid that my father is currently more than two thousand miles away, and he won't be coming here any time soon, so… for the time being, his wishes matter little. All I want is to take a look at the city. Do I make myself clear?_"

The angry Guado did not answer at once. The headmaster frowned; this silence was not getting any more pleasant with each passing second. Honestly, he had no idea what was going on between the two, and he didn't feel like participating in it… Oh, but the boy was _still_ looking at him… or maybe _through_ him, he wasn't so certain anymore. Nevertheless, it somehow bothered him… thus, finally, very much against his better judgement, Evan Rysse decided to act. Casually leaning forward, he cleared his throat, which earned him not only a meaningful glare from the tall nobleman, but also an opportunity to see a genuine flash of amusement in the young man's eyes. "Maybe _I_ could help?" he asked calmly… and, truth to be told, he wasn't all that much surprised to hear the boy reply in a perfect Bevelle accent.

"Actually, yes," the youth spoke, smirking a little. Evan knew that the mockery wasn't directed at him, but at the ambassador. "You see, Rysse-_dono_, I was wondering whether you could find a suitable person who would show me the city this afternoon."

"_Shimoa-sama_…" the furious Guado hissed.

"Well…? What do you say?" the boy asked politely, tilting his head to the side.

Evan felt a bit amused, yet he didn't let it show. Generally, he had nothing against the young man's idea, he even kind of _wanted_ him out, for he knew that he would rather discuss certain matters _not_ in the boy's presence… Having already made up his mind, the headmaster could only hope that Jyscal's ambassador wouldn't tear him to pieces as soon as the lord's son left the room. However, just before he could announce his decision, the nobleman spoke once again, this time using the common language and doing very little to conceal his disapproval.

"I'm sure that there will be plenty of opportunities later, when--"

"Actually, there will be not," the youth interrupted. "If you read the school charter, as you claim you did, you would certainly know that students are not supposed to leave the grounds on their own as soon as the year starts. Is that correct, Rysse-_dono_?"

Evan smiled. "I will send for a suitable servant to accompany you, your highness."

"Thank you," the boy nodded slightly, standing up to leave before the ambassador could protest; then finally turning in his direction. "I hope that you are fine with this, Atsuko-_san_?" it was a question, but the tone of his voice left no room for argument.

The nobleman grimaced, as if he had just swallowed something unpleasant, then bowed. "As you wish, _Shimoa-sama_."

* * *

Bevelle hadn't changed much since the time of his last visit, nearly seven years ago, but that was to be expected. Back then, however, Seymour had been only eight and not exactly in a sightseeing mood, so today's trip had been, in a sense, a completely new experience… He wished it had been longer, though.

The boy sighed, a bit surprised at the silence that rang in his ears. For such a large school, this place sure was quiet… not to mention remarkably empty. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the late hour, as it was already getting dark outside.

"This way, sir. I took care of everything while you were gone."

"…My luggage?" Seymour asked absently, studying the spacious hall's walls.

"It's already in your room. Please, follow me, sir."

He had left home months ago, which gave him a lot of time to get used to all changes, so why was he feeling so lonely all of a sudden? Taking one final look around him, the youth sighed, then let the servant guide him through the maze of huge doors and long, dimly lit corridors to his new room.

It was situated on the first floor, quite far from the main stairway. Resigned, Seymour walked inside, wondering whether this chamber would look much different from his expectations. Well, he certainly hadn't expected anything too luxurious, and the sight that greeted his eyes came as a pleasant surprise. The room was large, beautifully furnished; it even smelled nice… of wood and lavender. He found his things already there, placed neatly in a corner and seemingly untouched, still left for him to arrange, just as he wanted. More importantly, he immediately knew that his roommate had already arrived, and, judging from various personal belongings scattered practically everywhere, he had already taken his time to unpack.

Seymour walked father into the room, stopping at what seemed to be the other boy's bed. His gaze moved to the left, to a small table that stood a couple of inches away. Several items lay there, but the first thing he noticed was a glass frame, holding a bright, very accurate drawing of a chocobo. Seymour had to pick it up, even though it was kind of obvious that the picture meant quite a lot to its owner. Absently admiring the artist's skill, the boy couldn't help but smile; after all, people would usually keep pictures of their families with them… but, whoever his roommate was, he obviously found this chocobo more important.

Only then did he realize that his servant was still standing in the doorway, waiting for a permission to leave. Briefly meeting the man's questioning gaze, he uttered a single word, and the servant instantly disappeared into the corridor, quietly closing the door behind him. Seymour suppressed a pained sigh, suddenly remembering how long it had taken him to convince his father that it _really_ would be more reasonable to hire human servants in Bevelle, instead of dragging a bunch of Guado everywhere he went.

Well, Maester Jyscal, as progressive and unbiased as he was, saw nothing wrong with leaving his son alone with humans, but, obviously, his attendants did have a _major_ problem with that. Surprisingly enough, there had been quite a lot of explaining on the lord's part. Seymour hadn't participated in that discussion; back then he couldn't have cared less… but now he felt extremely glad that his father hadn't given in to the noblemen's demands and kept to his former decision.

Actually, what was the Guado aristocracy so afraid of? That a long stay in Bevelle would make Seymour forget about his heritage, turn him into a human? Couldn't they see that this was practically impossible? Did they really fear that he would fall in love with some bizarre - in their opinion, anyway - human customs, just like his father had? That he would further betray their precious, of thousands years' standing tradition?

Seymour was young and still relatively inexperienced, but he realized that he couldn't let his personal feelings interfere with the role he had to play. Right now, he had awfully much to lose. Winning the trust of the Guado had been hard enough, as lots of them actually despised humans; nevertheless, they had finally accepted him as their lord's only son and the rightful heir to the throne. They were conservative to the point of obsession… and the good point was, that as long as he followed all their rules, he was able to gain their respect and approval.

The day before Seymour had left for Bevelle, lord Jyscal had made a long, overly dramatic speech, asking him, among other things, to promise that he would never forget about his place in this world. Honestly, these words had surprised him, given him a lot to think about. Even now, he had no idea where his place lay. But he had promised, of course, if only to please his father… and everyone else.

Seymour shrugged, suddenly realizing that he still held the chocobo painting in his hands. He carefully put it back in place and walked up to the window, opening it wider, allowing the warm, afternoon air to rush inside. When he had left Guadosalam, the summer had only just started. Now it was already the beginning of fall. The boy smiled sadly, looking at a garden that stretched outside. Truth to be told, he would have gladly stayed home, if only his father had given him a chance. After his mother's death, when he had returned to Guadosalam for the first time in three years, it had taken him quite a long time to adjust, to get used to the way people lived there. And, when he had been finally beginning to feel at ease among the Guado, he had been once again forced to leave, to exchange that relative peace and safety for something else, something long forgotten, thus completely unfamiliar…

* * *

Suddenly, a sound of approaching footsteps pulled him out of his heavy thoughts. He turned around, just in time to see the door fly open. A scrawny, dark-haired boy stood there, literally bent in two and panting slightly, as if he had just run through the entire corridor. Seymour studied the intruder's features with mild interest, instantly noticing that he wore an exact copy of a navy-blue uniform that lay on his own bed. Obviously enough, he was the roommate the headmaster had been talking about earlier.

The boy finally got his breath under control; his shoulders visibly relaxed. He straightened up, noticing, for the first time, that he was not alone. His gaze moved slowly from Seymour's boots to his face… and he froze.

Several long, awkward moments had passed, but the dark-haired youth simply stood there, gawking, with a not-so-intelligent look plastered to his otherwise handsome face. Annoyed, Seymour slightly tilted his head to the side, wondering what, for Yevon's sake, was wrong with the other boy. Then it finally hit him - it must have been _his_ looks. The fifteen-year-old summoner was still dressed in a traditional Guado fashion - complete with long, diamond earrings and artistic, black make-up framing his violet eyes… and, on top of that, his unruly blue hair was also not an easy thing to miss. In other words, at this particular moment Seymour didn't look very much… human.

No wonder the other boy needed a handful of extra seconds to overcome his initial surprise… well, 'shock' was definitely a better word here. Fortunately, the expression of utter disbelief finally vanished from his face, replaced by a much nicer, neutral look. It would also seem that his voice was back… or what was left of it. "Um, hi…" he stuttered. "I'm Laures…"

Seymour, on his part, might have even found this situation comical… if it hadn't been for the fact that he was, in fact, terribly annoyed… nearly enraged. What was the general human problem with different races, anyway? Honestly, they all acted as if they had never seen a Guado before… and as if the entire Spira belonged to them only…

Meanwhile, the other boy had somehow regained his self-confidence. He took up a few steps towards Seymour, stopping only a couple of feet away. They were, the half-Guado noticed absently, almost the same height, the other boy being a bit, but only a bit shorter.

"You… uh… don't understand me, do you?" the youth - Laures - spoke slowly, carefully pronouncing each word, as if he was addressing a three-year-old kid… or, worse still, a mentally handicapped person. "Look," he said, raising an index finger to his own chest, "I'm-"

"Oh, stop it already, will you?" Seymour interrupted, not even bothering to hide his immense irritation. "I'm not deaf," he growled, accenting the last syllable on purpose, though he was fully aware that it was not what the other boy had assumed.

Laures looked genuinely startled. "I-I'm sorry, I thought…"

"It doesn't matter what you _thought_," Seymour snarled, yet only a mere second later he looked away, trying to hide the hurt in his pale eyes. _Here we go_, he thought bitterly. _Why does everybody treat me in the same manner? Is it really so hard to see that I'm not that different…?_

Even if the dark-haired boy noticed the sudden change in Seymour's expression, he clearly didn't let it show. He didn't seem particularly taken aback by the summoner's rudeness, either. In fact, it looked as if he had already forgotten the awkward conversation from only a moment ago… including his own tactless behavior.

"So…" Laures took another step forward, causing Seymour to look his way once again. He smiled slightly, tilting his head to the side, and only then did the half-Guado finally notice the other boy's startlingly blue eyes. "No point in holding a grudge against me, especially since we're gonna be roommates from now on… I guess." When Seymour didn't reply, the smiling boy simply went on. "Well, you already know my name… What's yours?"

Still feeling distrustful and quite unable to believe in this sudden display of friendliness, the summoner hesitated briefly. "It's… Seymour," he eventually spoke, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Laures nodded. "Nice to meet you, Seymour."

He flinched, unpleasantly surprised at how alien his own name, spoken aloud with such a common, human accent, sounded to him. Suddenly, in his thoughts, he could hear his mother's soft voice… addressing him in a very similar manner. _Funny_, he sighed inwardly, _how five years spent in Guadosalam have nearly made me forget what it feels like…_ Laures' curious gaze was still on him, so Seymour quickly shook the memory away, once again hoping that his slip hadn't been noticed. A mere second later, though, he found himself facing another dilemma - the dark-haired boy extended a hand towards him.

Seymour frowned. He knew what it meant, of course - shaking hands was a standard greeting gesture among humans, especially males; a custom that had been established a long, long time ago, even before Sin had come into existence… when people had been generally less civilized. Basically, it was a sign of peaceful intentions - one cannot, after all, hide a weapon in outstretched fingers. Nowadays, however, literally everyone - except all the heathens, of course - would rather use the official Yevon greeting.

It appeared that this so-called Laures did not fall into the category of 'everyone'. A bit reluctantly, Seymour extended his own hand. It seemed more than just a bit awkward to him… the Guado generally avoided physical contact as much as possible, especially at the beginning of a relationship. An exchange of polite bows was customary, whereas shaking hands or hugging was definitely not.

Laures must have noticed Seymour's hesitation, for he could barely contain his amusement. The handshake was brief, however, when the summoner wanted to pull away, he suddenly found himself unable to, not with his wrist locked firmly in Laures' grasp.

The other boy was studying his fingers with such interest and intensity that Seymour felt a sudden urge to reach out and strangle him on the spot. Fortunately, before he could act upon that dark desire, his soon-to-be victim looked up, confusion written all over his face. "Say… why are your nails painted?"

* * *

It seemed that this terrible day would never end. Seymour knew that they were, by no means, forced to spend the entire evening together, in almost absolute silence, stuck at the opposite sides of the very same room… but it really seemed that some invisible force kept them both here, no matter how uncomfortable they felt in each other's presence.

Mutual uneasiness hung in the air. It showed mostly in the way the boys acted; they hardly ever spoke, exchanging some casual remarks from time to time, nothing more… They actually pretended to be busy. Seymour sat on his bed, with his back resting comfortably against a wall. He kept an open book somewhere next to his knee… he would absently turn a couple of pages every two minutes or so, but, naturally, it didn't even matter, since he wasn't reading at all. Laures, on the other hand, needed a similar excuse, so he held a randomly picked magazine in his hands, trying to make an impression of a person deeply absorbed in a fascinating lecture. It didn't work, though… and no, he wasn't holding the pages upside down. Still, Seymour was certain that the boy hadn't even read a single line.

In fact, Laures had been staring at him for the entire evening. Seymour's patience was gradually growing thinner, until, at last, it reached its limits. Unable to stand the awkward silence any longer, he put the book away, closing it with an audible snap. "Okay," he hissed, taking a deep breath. "What is it?"

Laures, who had but a mere second earlier hastily averted his gaze, once again raised his eyes. There was absolute - absolutely fake, in fact - surprise written all over his face. "Nothing," he blinked.

"You're lying."

"Why would I?"

Seymour rolled his eyes. "It obviously _is_ something, so would you _please_ tell me instead of _staring_ at me like that? It's rather annoying, you know?"

Laures sighed. "…Okaaay…" he said slowly, after a very long pause, when it became obvious that the other boy wouldn't simply let the matter drop, "…if you insist… just keep in mind I don't want to be rude, but… well… you're obviously not human, are you?"

It was an awfully blunt thing to say, they both realized at once. Laures looked away, his cheeks visibly tinged with red… but he didn't apologize. Seymour clenched his teeth, somehow managing to stay calm, though it cost him a lot of his self-control.

"…No," he finally answered. "Not really," and, almost instantly, he added, perhaps a bit too viciously, "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No," the boy instantly shook his head. "I'm sorry. I was just wondering…" he smiled sheepishly, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "…Because I've never really been out of Bevelle, would you believe that? …So, once again… sorry for everything. Me and my big mouth. Oh, well…"

"You're rambling," Seymour pointed out in a calm voice, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Am I?" Laures asked innocently. "…Never mind that. Well, anyway, I guess we both have some explaining to do… You want me to start?"

* * *

End of Chapter One

* * *

The making of original characters, part one:

Laures,

Seymour's roommate and soon-to-become friend. Well, since my beloved half-Guado is undoubtedly the main hero of this story, no one else matters as much as he does. I wasn't even _trying_ to be very original with Laures, even though he's quite an important character. ; Well, folks, have you ever played FFVIII? …Yeah, that's right, the poor boy looks exactly like Squall, minus the scar and the scrawny part, of course… (I can't help it; I'm still in love with Squall, even after all these years… :)) See, I'm not being very creative here… And, on top of that, Laures' pretty name comes directly from a manga called _Seimaden_. As for his personality… definitely not 'squallish'… keep reading and you'll see. :))

Evan Rysse,

the school's boss. I wanted him to be a good guy, kind of like Dumbledore - but you won't find many similarities between him and the _Harry Potter_ headmaster. Evan (uh, what a refreshing, creative name… but I still like it! ;)) is an idealistic man in his late thirties, a bit pedantic, perhaps, but overall nice and understanding, especially when it matters the most.

* * *

Buahahaha, I can't believe I actually posted this! --falls to the floor, laughing hysterically-- Really, shame on me; it's such a simple, shallow story… Anyway, this chapter was a real pleasure to write and, seriously, I want to continue with this fic, no matter what people think.

My English sucks, that's a well-known fact… but I'm not a native speaker. (Geez, I hate repeating this all the time… it's such a lame excuse, after all…) Please, e-mail me if you want to help me in some way or other. Correcting my mistakes would be nice; I'd really appreciate that.

What else… Well, generally, I know that this fic is a piece of shit, but let me know if you want to read more; leave a review, no matter how short it's gonna be. I'll make me feel very, very grateful! So… please…? All Seymour fans have to stick together, remember? :))


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